


Cigarette Smoke in Back Alleys

by coral_dragon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, also lance wears gold booty shorts, blame not-just-any-fangirl for this, dj!matt, god i love this boy, i dunno what other tags you need, keith dies from pretty boy overload, keith might be a stripper later, lance gives keith a lap dance, shiro is a little shit, strip club au, stripper!Lance, stripper!hunk, stripper!shiro, this was so much fun tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-17 11:30:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8142152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coral_dragon/pseuds/coral_dragon
Summary: This wasn’t a romcom movie. The hot stripper never actually went home with the sleazy bad-boy-wannabe in the audience, let alone date them. At least he can accept a free lap dance. And hang out backstage… And maybe get his number… Oh.





	1. Non-Regulation

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't initially mean for this to be as long as it's turning out, but when do I ever?  
> The working title for this was "All Mace's Fault". But I actually am having a lot of fun writing this.

“Come on, Keith, you said. It’ll be fun, you said.” Keith glared at the pavement, scuffing the sole of his shoe as he walked in silent protest. The man he was following snorted in amusement at his words.

“Stop sulking, Keith. Someone might think you hated being outside.”

The night had a chill to it, but it was hard to notice in this part of the city. Neon lights flashed, music blared from bar doors, somewhat muted as it dissipated into the sky. People moved around the street, but most of them were packed indoors. Keith didn’t mind these places. True, he wasn’t much of a people person, but the music and atmosphere - and alcohol - usually made up for it.

And despite the jab, he was actually pleased to be out of the house.

“Shiro, you’re my  _ brother _ . And you decided taking me to the Castle of Lions was the best ‘welcome home’ gift. It’s a little weird.”

“It’s not weird!” Shiro turned to look at him with an exaggerated look of indignation. “I am simply taking you to my workplace to meet some of my colleagues, because you don’t know anyone else in town. And it’s a nice place!”

“Dude… You work at a strip club.”

“The best strip club in the area, thank you. And you know full well that if you would just relax a little, have a few drinks, you will actually enjoy yourself. It’s good music, good people, and pretty boys dancing for you. All your favourite things.”

It  _ was  _ all of his favourite things, including spending time with Shiro. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to complain about it. No-one had ever accused him of being easy-going person.

“It’s still weird. Though at least I don’t have to see you dance. Don’t tell me you’re going to abandon me to do manager stuff or something.”

“Quit your bitching, little bro. And no. I have tonight off and I promise it’s about hanging out with you and celebrating your arrival! Now shut up, we’re here.”

Keith made sure Shiro didn’t catch the smile that quirked the corners of his mouth up. They were an odd pair, really. Foster brothers at one point before they both grew out of the system, they had stuck to each other like glue and become their own make-shift family. He didn’t judge Shiro at all for working as a stripper - it was honestly just another job, and he had done well enough to become one of the managers for the dancers. He liked it here; who was Keith to take that away from him? And though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he was curious about the club. He’d heard only good things.

“Shiro, love!”

“Allura! Hey!”

There was a lady standing at the front door who, if Keith was completely honest, kind of scared him. Part of that was physical. She was tall, her shoulders broad. He was convinced that if you got a good look at her arms, she would be nearly as muscled as Shiro was. She was also stunningly beautiful. Ethereal, even. Long, thick, silver hair, and features like she was the magical princess of some fairy tale. The other part was this  _ aura _ that she seemed to give off. A fierce one that said ‘if you cause trouble, I will destroy you’. There was fire in her eyes.

On the other hand, she seemed nice enough, making brief small talk with Shiro and greeting Keith before waving them inside without a second thought. Keith only half heard Shiro explain that Allura owned the Castle, while he took in the sight before him.

There was no denying it was a nice place. Really nice. It didn’t look overly expensive, but neither did it appear tacky or gaudy. It felt spacious, so you didn’t feel cramped, but the low roof and abundance of half-walled booths made it feel intimate at the same time. It had a unique, nearly science-fiction feel to it, which Keith eventually attributed to the white furniture and light blue neon that made up the majority of the decor. Overall, he already liked it. He could see why Shiro did too. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be too bad afterall.

“Alright,” his aforementioned brother broke through Keith’s appraisal with a hand landing heavily on his shoulder. “So, that’s Matt on the decks up there. He’s an amazing DJ-”

“Past fling of yours?”

“Keith! ...Might be. Shut up. He’s my  _ friend _ . And I was talking.” He cleared his throat with a small scowl. “So, good DJ. Meaning you’ll like the music tonight. He might even do requests if you’re lucky. And apparently Lance is about to start his set, so we should find a good seat!”

“Who’s Lance?”

Keith followed as Shiro led him to a boothed table close to the front and a little off to the side. It was roped off like it was reserved for important guests, but neither of them paid that fact any heed. Keith was pretty sure workers could take the reserved seats anyway. He dropped onto the comfortable couch with a contented sigh, propping his feet on the table and taking in the large stage with a pole on an a middle runway.

After Shiro had first landed this gig, Keith had actually tried his hand at pole dancing classes out of curiousity. He had given up quickly; it was surprisingly intense work and caused muscles that he hadn’t even known he had to ache. He would stick to his martial arts, thank you very much. Even so, he now knew what kind of work went into these performances, and he was pretty sure that made watching them even better.

Shiro had produced drinks out of apparently nowhere, handing one to Keith before finally answering.

“Lance is probably our best dancer on the pole. It’s like he’s born to be there, centre stage. Lives in the spotlight. Good kid, but total drama queen. Actually, I think you’d really like him.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Oh, he’s totally your type, trust me.”

“Shiro. No.”

Keith’s glare was a warning that Shiro gleefully ignored.

“Shiro, yes!”

Keith rolled his eyes. Everyone thought his brother was the mature, together, pure one. They seemed to assume he was responsible and stoic and innocent. It was all lies. Sure, Keith had possessed a strong rebellious streak before they had met, but Shiro had never made any attempt to tone it tone. He had encouraged it, and he was just as much of a troublemaker as Keith was - he was just better at hiding it.

There wasn’t any time to bite back, however, as the lights suddenly dimmed and the music changed. Stage lights snapped on as the music built. The curtains opened, out strutted Lance, and Keith choked on his drink.

The man on stage was wearing an outfit that was clearly supposed to imitate the uniform of an Airforce pilot. The bottom half seemed to do a semi decent job, too, except that Keith knew full well that it wouldn’t be long before the long brown trousers were tossed to the side. The top half currently consisted of slim fitting, Top-Gun-esque leather jacket that was being teasingly removed even as Keith watched to reveal an even tighter crop top that was definitely non-regulation.

Lance’s face was a sight to behold in and of itself. Sharp features, a mischievous grin, and gorgeously sultry cat-like eyes even managed to draw Keith’s attention away from his body. Not that his body was anything less than perfect. It was the body of dancer, that was for sure; an incredibly talented and flexible dancer -  _ holy shit, how is he bending like that? _

Then of course, the pants came off and Keith’s whispered ‘fuck’ earnt him a smirk from Shiro. Not that Keith cared right at that moment because he was too busy being hypnotised by an absolutely divine arse, clad in tiny hotpants, and attached to hips that moved like they were casting a spell. Combined with long legs in knee high, heeled, combat boots, and Keith was lost. He cursed Shiro for knowing this would happen. And also silently thanked him for letting him see this gift to his gay world.

Keith wasn’t about to tear his gaze away from the performance on stage. Slack-jawed, he watched as Lance twisted and bent and  _ moved _ . He dropped low, curled back up, and gyrated his hips while he walked. Then up the pole he went, spinning around and hanging off it with terrifying muscular power. Watching this guy dance was a life-changing experience, Keith was sure of it. And he was pointedly ignoring Shiro snickering beside him.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Shut up, arsehole.”

“I told you he was your type.”

“I don’t have a type.” There was a pause. “Also, I hate you.”

“Sure, sure.”

The performance ended with Lance in the splits and deafening cheers from the crowd. Lance basked in the attention, blowing kisses and shooting out winks before sauntering off stage. Only when his last heel had completely disappeared behind the stage curtain, did Keith start breathing again and relax back into his seat.

“I dunno, Shiro. He seems like a total douche. Too flashy and attention-seeking.”

He was bluffing, and Shiro knew it, but for once in Keith’s life he didn’t call him out on it, simply humming in response.

“Yeah, well, he is a bit. A little arrogant and often way too loud. But he’s also one of the most loyal friends I could ever have, and smarter than anyone gives him credit for.”

Shiro seemed to think for a few moments longer.

“Though, he’s also an absolute little shit, and reminds me a lot of you. I wasn’t kidding when I said you would probably get along. Anyway, I’m going to leave you to drool for a moment while I get us more drinks.”

Keith made a vague noise of acknowledgement as Shiro wandered off, instead choosing to focus his attention on picking his jaw off the floor while looking around.

Shiro came and went a few times, a near endless supply of drinks and new people for Keith to meet. He met Allura properly, and then Coran the head bartender. He got a proper introduction to Matt, and even his younger sister Pidge. The girl was far too young to be at the club in the first place, at only 16, but Keith had does worse things at younger ages without the supervision of adults so he was in no position to judge. Some people stopped for only a brief moment to say hi, while others stayed to chat for a while.

Keith liked it here. He really did. He knew full well why Shiro had brought him here; it was an invitation. Keith didn't really fit in a normal workplace with his tattoos, piercings, and general dislike of humans. But he was in desperate need of a job, he liked the nightlife, and could dance. So, the offer was: do you want to remove clothes on stage for money with a good work crew? It was definitely tempting.

Pidge had just finished explaining to him that the man now on stage was named Hunk, who apparently mixed the usual “sex dancing” with traditional islander influences, when Keith finally spotted  _ him _ again and became thoroughly distracted. Pidge, of course, was far too smart for her own good, quickly disappearing with a knowing smirk that Keith did not appreciate. How dare she know him so well so fast?

He forgot his outrage a moment later. Lance has changed outfit and was prancing around happily in metallic gold booty shorts, a loose, iridescent crop top that was so thin it was basically transparent, and killer white heels. His golden skin practically glowed and Keith was sure he was dusted with glitter. No mortal was that beautiful, he was sure.

God, he felt like such a creep drooling over the stripper. This wasn't a movie; the performer never went home with the sleaze in the audience, let alone date them. Keith didn't even know Lance except for the information Shiro had given him - though he wouldn't deny he would like to. He hoped he would be given the chance.

Keith watched as Lance spotted Shiro and made a for him, flinging arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. The way Shiro patted him on the head and smiled at him made Keith snort. That was his “I've adopted you as another little brother’ look, though Lance didn't look particularly disappointed, especially when Shiro leant forward to whisper something in his ear.

Keith’s eyes narrowed. They were glancing at him with increasingly devious expressions and Keith didn't trust either of them at all. What the hell was his brother planning to do to him? Or…?

Oh.

Oh no.

_ Oh no. _

Lance was making his way towards Keith, his hips swinging seductively and a glint in his eye that looks downright  _ predatory _ .

“Hey, cutie.”

Keith felt disproportionately lucky that he didn't squeak, but his answering “um” wasn't much better. Lance just chuckled and leant forward, smirking as Keith tried to maintain distance. He felt like his body and mind were betraying him; he didn't usually have this much of a problem when faced with pretty boys. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that he had a bad feeling about where this was going.

Lance’s eyes flicked over Keith.

“You've really nailed the ‘bad boy look’ haven't you, sweetie? Looks good on you.”

It was a slight struggle, but Keith finally got his mind and body under control. He mirrored Lance’s smirk quickly.

“So I’ve been told. Comes with the attitude, apparently.”

He didn't miss the perfectly manicured eyebrow that quirked in appreciation of his rediscovered mental capacity and snark.

“So, what did my darling brother send you over here for? I know full well that whatever this is was his idea.”

“Calm down, babe.” Lance chuckled, turning a look full of fake innocence on Keith. “Shiro just said you might want a little dance, is all.”

“Did Shiro also let you know that I’m flat broke? I’m fully aware this is your job, dude.”

Quicker than Keith could blink, Lance had him straddled on the couch, his hands resting on the backrest and caging Keith in. It was scarily close and yet there wasn’t a single place where their bodies came in contact. This ‘golden boy’ knew exactly what he was doing.

“This one’s on the house,  _ dude _ . Besides, we both know that Shiro only wants to see you embarrassed and flustered so he can hold it over you like a good big brother.” He winked. “I’d love to see it too, honestly. Gonna squirm for me, babe?”

Hook, line, and sinker. Keith knew for a fact he was being baited, but a challenge was a challenge and he could think of worse ones.

“Fine then,  _ babe _ .” He threw Lance’s previous mimicry back at him. “Show me what you’ve got. Make me fuckin’ squirm.”

The look that momentarily took over Lance’s face shouldn’t have been as cute as it was. It was like someone had told a child they could have anything in the candy aisle of the store for free. Keith got the strong feeling that Lance’s approach to a challenge was exactly the same as his; never turn it down. This was going to be a game.

Keith didn’t know whether he wanted to win or lose.


	2. Wow, rude.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance realise they might actually be friends... Maybe. Then some arsehole ruins their good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have spent all of today inside because there's a typhoon out, and tomorrow is going to be more of the same. So I may end up churning out a few chapters in a short time frame. Woo!
> 
> Also, yeah, there's a POV change. I might keep flicking, I'm not sure yet.

It would have been near impossible for Lance to have  _ not _ noticed the hot, kind-of-punk guy sitting next to Shiro, watching him dance with the most intense stare he had probably ever seen. He wondered at first if he should be put off by the gaze, but it wasn’t anything like the creepy, lust-filled looks he usually got at work. There was lust there (Lance would have been upset if there wasn’t, honestly), but it was mixed with this awe and curiousity that said he wasn’t just viewing Lance is a performing monkey. He couldn’t help but bask in it.

He had been meaning to ask Shiro about his friend after his performance anyway, even if he had a pretty good idea of who it was. However, Shiro had beat him to it, offering him an opportunity to mess with the kid and there was no way Lance was going to turn down a request like that.

“Make him squirm.” Shiro had said.

At first he had thought it would be easy. He had caught Keith off guard and he had very nearly become a flustered mess. But then;

“Fine then,  _ babe _ . Make me fuckin squirm.”

Holy shit. Lance had fought an intense internal battle to stop himself from jumping the newbie then and there. It was probably the best response he could have ever hoped to hear. It made it a game, a challenge,  _ a competition _ . And there was nothing Lance liked better. He was determined to win.

He hadn’t won.

He wouldn’t precisely say he had lost either, though.

He had pulled out his ‘A-Game’ and  _ worked _ it. He knew what he was doing. He had been in this job long enough and had the confidence to go with it. He had even broken club rules (Shiro had given him clearance) and demanded Keith get his hands involved, placing them on his hips and arse. Lance had been having  _ fun _ . And Keith was far from immune. Lance had been forced to bite back his snickering at the not so subtle swearing that he occasionally heard under Keith’s breath. He had shivered in the danger and heat that burnt in Keith’s eyes, and glowed when it flicked to starstruck admiration whenever he pulled off a difficult move.

The problem was, although Keith wasn’t unaffected, he hadn’t been the mess Lance had wanted. He had continued to smirk at Lance and make teasing comments that had him fuming.

The song had ended with neither of them gaining the metaphorical upper hand in their stupid competition. They had both laughed and shot insults at each other before Lance had finally wandered off to do his actual job with a parting “Fuck you, mullet!”

It had been over an hour since then and Lance was missing it. He had been run ragged since that dance, and then…

“Fuckin’  _ arsehole _ .” Lance was muttering to himself as he stormed through the staff door into the back alley behind the club, trying to light the scabbed cigarette between his lips. “Fuckin’ sleazebag piece of shit. Who the  _ fuck  _ does he think he is? I’ll cut his fuckin’ dick off myself-”

“Someone pissed you off, clearly.”

Lance yelped, startled, causing his cigarette to fall into a puddle. He stared at it for a moment, pouting. Just his luck. An amused huff reminded him that he wasn’t alone and he nearly yelped for a second time when he looked up and recognised the figure standing there. Keith was leaning against the brick wall, blowing his own smoke up towards the sky.

“Here.” Keith’s hand was outstretched, another cigarette between his fingers.

Lance accepted the offering with a small smile, lighting it and taking a long drag. As he released it back out, he felt tension leaving his body with it. Smoking might kill him of cancer one day, but right now he was young and believed himself indestructible.

“Thanks, man.”

“Keith.” Lance hummed.

“Yeah, I know. Shiro’s brother, right? Lance.”

“Shiro’s an arse and I’m angry at him right now. But yeah, he already mentioned your name.”

Lance joined Keith in leaning against the wall and they smoked in silence for a few moments.

“So, who’s dick is getting cut off?”

Lance’s scowl returned and he groaned.

“Dickhead client inside. There’s a group of them, business men who make far too much money but never leave good tips. One dude in particular apparently can’t get the words ‘hands off’ through his thick skull.” He saw Keith cringe slightly. Though whether it was in sympathy or fear of having crossed a line earlier, Lance wasn’t sure. He waved his hand in a vague dismissive gesture.

“They’re drunk, as usual, and I thought it’d be okay. They’re spending a lot in the bar, so it was worth keeping them happy. But, like… I got trapped and hands went where I didn’t want them, so I bolted. I’ll be alright, just pissed off.”

“I can see why. Fuckers.” There was concern lining Keith’s face, but he wasn’t looking at Lance. “I can punch ‘em for you if you want. You’d risk your job if you did it, I suppose.”

Lance snorted. “I appreciate the offer, but I hear you’re in need of a job too and I’m pretty sure it would interfere with your prospects too. Allura’s pretty good as protection, anyway.”

“She can’t be everywhere at once though…” It was said quietly, almost a murmur, like it wasn’t quite meant to be heard, so Lance didn’t answer. Even if it was true.

The pair of boys seemed to fall into a comfortable silence. Keith seemed content to enjoy the quiet of being outside and Lance didn’t want to go inside just yet.

“You look like you’re freezing.”

“I’m fine.” Keith must have caught Lance shivering. It wasn’t warm out, and he his clothing wasn’t exactly designed to keep him warm, but he’s die of hypothermia before he admitted weakness in front of this guy.

The metal in Keith’s ears glinted in the light as he shifted, pulling off his red jacket. He didn’t even give Lance a chance to object, simply throwing it in his face.

“Put it on, moron.”

His voice held a tone that seemed to cut off Lance’s arguments before he could make them. Lance grumbled under his breath, but shrugged into the jacket, instantly warming up. Though that may have been Keith’s lingering body heat… And  _ that _ was the beginning of a dangerous path that he was going to ignore for the moment. Instead, he giggled.

“This is like one of those terrible rom-com movies.”

Lance internally cheered as Keith let out a soft, breathy laugh.

“You mean the ones where the stripper had to be ‘rescued’ from their shit life my some dumbass rich man?”

Lance grinned.

“Yeah! They’re always pathetic and weak and just need a man to care for them.”

“Who only falls for them because they look sad and pretty.”

“And then, depending on the route you want, he either teaches her - because strippers are never men - how to be a ‘real lady’ or-”

“-or he’s involved with some sort of trouble and protects her from the shit he got her into?”

“And then she falls for him because he’s strong and possessive.”

“Fuck, man.” Keith shook his head. “Surely there’s a movie that doesn’t shit on strippers.”

Lance hummed in thought.

“Magic Mike?”

“I’ve honestly never seen it.”

“Me either, I’m just guessing.”

They fell silent again, Lance staring at a crack in the pavement while he considered an idea.

“Hey, Keith?”

“Hm?”

“You, ah…” How was he supposed to ask this? “You know how you said before about punching that guy for me? Can I ask you a favour?”

Keith didn’t say anything, but he nodded for Lance to continue, brows furrowed slightly.

“Can I… ah… can I use you as backup?” He felt awkward, not even sure if he was phrasing what he wanted correctly. “Like, I have to get back to work and I can’t avoid him, but I’m honestly a tad nervous and… I don’t even know…” What did he want from Keith?

“Lance. It’s fine.”

Lance snapped his head up to look at Keith. It was?

“I’ll stick close by and keep an eye out. You can use me as a shield if you need to and I’m happy to step in if you want me to.”

The breath Lance let out this time was one of relief.

“Thanks, man. And… thank you, in general.”

Lance pushed himself off the wall and Keith followed suit, both of them heading back towards the club.

“For what?” He sounded confused.

“For like, being nice? Treating me like a fuckin’ human being? I dunno. Not making bullshit assumptions about who I am. Not being one of the creeps that I deal with every other day.” Lance suddenly grinned as he opened the door. “Even if you do keep staring at my arse.”

He heard Keith start coughing, like he had choked on air and giggled at it. He glanced over his shoulder to see Keith looking anywhere but at Lance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not even that good.”

Lance cackled.

“Liar! You couldn’t tear your hands from it, earlier.”

“Shut up, fucker.”

Lance stopped just past the doorway, spinning to face Keith.

“How long as we known each other?”

Keith raised an eyebrow.

“About two hours.” ‘Why’ was the unspoken question.

“But we’re friends now, right?”

There was a beat of silence, and then Keith laughed. A proper, genuine, happy laugh.

“Yes, you dipshit. We’re friends now.”

Lance was starstruck. Dear god, he was so fucked. The way Keith smiled, his sharp eyes, his messy, long hair. He was the definition of gorgeous. And Lance was weak to the bad-boy look. He couldn’t believe that this was playing out like some stupid movie? At least he wasn’t some random; he was Shiro’s brother. Shiro had always said they would get along, and Lance was willing to swear he would never doubt Shiro ever again.

“Awesome. You’re gonna have to stop insulting me though.”

“Not a chance.”

“Fuck you, mullet.”

“How do expect to earn a tip with that attitude?”

“You’re not even paying me!”

“Move your arse, Lance.”

“I’m keeping your jacket.”

“I've changed my mind. We’re no longer friends.”

“Wow, rude.”

 

\--------------------------------------------------

 

Keith glared. Hard. He wondered if he could set someone on fire if he glared at them with enough hate and anger. Unfortunately, that particular ability eluded him at the moment.

He now understood why Lance had been so hesitant to come back inside. And why he'd asked Keith for help. It wasn't that Lance couldn't hold his own in a fight, both physically and verbally (he'd heard stories from Shiro), but it was complicated when it came to club patrons. Lance wanted what was best for Allura and the club - he was completely loyal to it, a trait Keith admired greatly - but that meant he wasn't willing to piss of the pig that was currently tormenting him.

Keith was seconds away from exploding.

It was weird, really. He really had only known Lance for the shortest time but they had clicked in a way he hadn't expected. They were both, stubborn, competitive, trouble-makers who would do anything for their friends. They swapped insults like they were compliments and found joy is trying to annoy each other. But in mere minutes they had developed an understanding that it held hidden affection. Sure they were different people, but now they had met, it felt like there had never been a time that they hadn't known each other. They were friends. And Keith was protective of his friends.

Which is why he was seriously considering tearing another person’s arms off.

He wasn't exactly a stranger to confrontation and fights. It was an ongoing problem in his life that violence seemed drawn to him. But he was trying to hard to not make it difficult for Lance, or anyone else that would have to deal with the consequences of his lost temper. The problem was, it was hard when Lance was clearly uncomfortable with the situation. More than uncomfortable. He was hating it. Which was a shame; Lance shouldn't be made to hate the job he enjoyed so much.

The man who was the cause of Keith’s anger was a reasonably average looking business man who had way too much money. His blonde hair was slicked back, his tailored suit jacket slung over a chair, shirt half undone and stained with expensive champagne. And he was teasing Lance with a decently large wad of cash while his buddies surrounded them, effectively trapping Lance in the middle.

Lance was doing a good job of playing his role, laughing and acting flirty while trying not to give in to ridiculous requests, like taking the money from the guys zipper with his mouth. It was totally degrading bullshit that literally no one deserved.

Suddenly Lance’s face changed. It shut down. His smile disappeared and he look on an expression of blank fury. With all the grace and dignity he had left, he spun on his heel, spotted an opening and shot away. He didn’t get far. The customer’s hand shot out, wrapping around Lance’s wrist like a shackle, yelling something at him, and Lance looked scared.

Keith was out of his seat and moving towards them before he even realised what he was doing, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause as he reached them. Years and years of martial arts and bar fights gave Keith a distinct advantage over the spoilt slug in front of him, but he held back from turning his face into a bloody mess. Instead he grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting it so his grip on Lance was broken. He held the arm in a painful position for probably a few seconds longer than necessary before forcing him backwards and away from Lance.

The man stared at Keith for a few beats, probably trying to figure what had just happened, before he launched into a shouted tirade. It was one of those ones filled with “Don’t you know who I am?” and “I will sue you!” and the like. Keith rolled his eyes, only half listening. He felt Lance’s presence behind him, his fingers curling into the bottom edge of Keith’s shirt. He seemed ok, if a bit shaken, so Keith returned his attention to the man in front of him. He was about to answer when a sharply accented voice cut through the noise like a knife.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Allura had arrived. Keith had no idea what that meant for him. He didn’t regret his actions, but he may have fucked his chances at a job. He flinched slightly as the businessman began talking first.

“You’re the owner of this establishment, correct? You’re fucking  _ entertainer _ has been nothing but rude to me! And this boy, his boyfriend or whatever, fucking assaulted me! I demand-”

“I wasn’t asking you, sir.”

Keith silently guffawed as Allura cut of the rest of the rant.

“Lance, honey? What happened?”

Lance curled slightly further into Keith’s back. Keith relaxed slightly and leant back into him, trying to offer some form of physical comfort. He wondered if in another circumstance he would get flustered at having Lance so close, wearing so little, but right now it barely even registered. It already felt so normal for them to be defending each other.

“Um…” Lance took a breath and raised his voice slightly to be heard clearly. “Mr. Barnes here broke the contact rule multiple times, and then asked me to do something that I would rather not repeat. He then grabbed my arm and tried to…”

It probably wasn’t visible to anyone else, but Keith could feel Lance shaking.

“Ah, then Keith came and broke the grip. That’s all he did.”

It wasn’t  _ quite _ but Keith was infinitely grateful to Lance for covering for him, even if it the truth only varied in the slightest detail.

The man - Mr. Barnes, apparently - tried to speak again but Allura didn’t give him the chance.

“Sir, I trust my dancers at their word. You were breaking the rules of this club. You will need to leave.”

“But his-”

“This man,” She gestured to Keith. “Is on a temporary contract as a bouncer here. It is his  _ job _ to defend the dancers against people like you. Leave. This instant. Or I will physically throw you out.”

Keith was stunned. Allura had just lied through her teeth on his behalf. He didn’t even know her, not really. Across the room, he saw Shiro and Pidge watching the scene with concern. Keith sent his brother a look that let him know it was covered, which Shiro acknowledged and they wandered off. Keith knew Shiro would talk to him about it later, but that wasn’t his current concern.

“Ah, Allura, I-”

“Don’t be silly, Keith.” She was very good at being in control, it seemed. “Now, to the change room, both of you. I will meet you there shortly to discuss what occurred fully.”

She strode off, leaving Keith gaping like a fish.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Lance’s voice was soft behind Keith. He nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Come on, we’d better do what she says. Though I could kill for another smoke, honestly.”

“I’ll give you one later.”

“Awesome! You rule, man.”

Keith followed Lance as he headed towards the ‘Staff Only’ door that led the the back rooms, watching him closely. Lance’s arms were crossed tightly over his chest, but it was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He kept wringing them, or squeezing his arms, or touching things that they passed. Keith guessed it was a anxiety trait. He wanted to do something to help, but he had no idea what.

“Thank you, Keith… again.” They had passed through the door now, which meant that Keith could hear Lance’s quiet voice; and the way it wavered slightly as he spoke. “Seems like all I’m doing at the moment is thanking you, eh? Don’t get used to it.” He tried to smile, like he was making a joke, but the mask didn’t stay up and he looked away quickly.

“Lance… Oh, fucking hell. Come here.” With a noise of gentle exasperation, Keith made a grab for one of Lance’s hands, curling his own around it.

Lance seemed surprised, but it didn’t take long for Keith to see the nervous energy fade slightly and his shoulders relax. Their joint hands fell to hang between them, and Lance’s other hand stopped its constant movement. Neither of them mentioned it as they made their way to the changing room.


	3. Trademark Smirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kiss (tm) happens, and I use too many italics.

Lance wanted to pace. He was restless and nervous. He couldn't sit still. Unfortunately, unless he could convince Keith to pace with him (which he doubted), moving around meant letting go of his hand; something he really didn't want to do. He hadn't expected Keith’s hand to suddenly entwine with his, but he wasn't going to complain. He was pretty sure the intent was to calm Lance down, and it had actually worked somewhat. It had certainly helped to distract him. It was nice.

Not that Lance would consider this a good situation, really, but it had its bonuses; Keith, specifically. Everything about him. And the fact that they were  _ definitely _ paying attention to each other.

He shouldn't be nervous, really. Lance knew that Allura probably wouldn't be annoyed at him, though he was a little worried about her reaction to Keith. Lance had asked for help without thinking of the consequences and he honestly didn't want Keith to suffer for it.

As it was, Lance was sitting on the small couch in the change room, Keith next to him, their knees touching and fingers intertwined. The door opened without warning, making Lance jump, but he didn't break apart. Allura strode in to crouch before him.

“Alright, Lance. Want to tell me the full story?”

Lance took a deep breath.

“The guy had been inappropriate all night but I dealt with it ‘cause he was spending lots and shit. But he kept trying to grope me and shit. And then after my break they just got worse and I got pinned and he actually grabbed my dick.” Lance knew he was babbling a little, wanting to spill it all out before he lost his nerve. Allura let him. “And then he fuckin tried to get me to suck his goddamn dick for money.”

Keith choked and spluttered beside him. The grip on his hand tightened.

“Like, I know a guy I coulda referred him to if he’d asked, though I'm not sure if wanna inflict that on a friend. But fuck off, that is not in my job description. And I felt fuckin trapped, Allura. So I tried to leave and he grabbed my arm and yelled at me. And then Keith stepped in ‘cause I was nervous earlier and asked him to help out if I needed. But all he did was break the grip on me, I swear, and then push him away. Please don't get him in trouble or-”

“Lance. Hush.” Allura’s voice was gentle, but firm. “It's okay. Neither of you acted out of line. That man will no longer be welcome here, I promise.”

Lance’s breath was shaky as he nodded. Allura continued.

“Now, you've only got two hours left of your shift and then another hour until we close. You can take it off and relax if you’d like.”

“No, that's okay. I'm okay now. I can get a few more tips. C-can I keep Keith close though?”

He watched Allura’s eyes flick over to Keith with mild curiousity, but she nodded.

“Of course. I'll let Shiro know what's going on also. Feel free to take a few more minutes until you're ready.”

Without another word, she stood up and left the room, leaving Lance once again alone with Keith. He was much calmer this time.

Keith’s voice was soft when he finally broke the silence.

“You alright?”

Lance nodded, a grin quickly forming on his face. One that Keith returned. 

“Want a smoke?”

“Oh, fuck yes, please.”

It wasn't even the offer a cigarette that had Lance feeling relieved. This had been Keith's first night at the club, the first time he'd met Lance. And he'd seen the worst side of it and Lance had probably come across far too wimpy, and vulnerable, and emotionally wrecked, and not cool and charming at all. And Keith was somehow still there, in the alley with Lance, waving a cigarette in front of his face and smiling at him. 

Somewhere, somehow, karma was working in Lance’s favour. It was making him feel bold. 

“Hey Keith, do you know what a cigarette kiss is?” He laughed a bit at the resulting reaction on Keith’s face, happy that the main emotion was curiosity.

“No…”

“It's when you use one cig to light another. Here, I'll show you.”

Keith seemed to understand what was required of him immediately. His hand brought to cigarette to his mouth and he pushed off the wall slightly and Lance mimicked the movement, leaning closer.

The burning end of Keith’s met the white of Lance’s. With a careful, synchronised inhale, the tip glowed orange, setting the other alight. Lance felt like he was being set on fire with it. He pulled back, not looking at Keith directly but glancing at him to gauge his reaction. He was surprisingly hard to read. 

“Hey, Lance.”

Lance tensed.

“Do you know what shotgunning is?”

Lance still couldn't move, but it was a different kind of shock. He knew exactly what that was and what it would mean. It was… intimate. Was Keith offering? Dear God, Lance hoped so.

_ C’mon Lance, pull yourself together. Trademark smirk. You got this. _

“Hm, I think so. You might have to give me a demonstration though. To remind me.”

Keith's eyes glinted in the neon glow that permeated this area of town. Lance thought he saw a hint of a smile before Keith was taking in a lung full of smoke and beckoning him closer. 

Lance was still jumpy from his earlier encounter, but Keith seemed to be aware of this, holding his breath and letting Lance come to him. He didn't try to touch or grab and Lance was infinitely grateful. His eyes closed. 

Their lips brushed ever so gently and Keith released his breath in one long, slow exhale. In tandem, Lance breathed in, taking in the shared smoke. He breathed out again as his eyes cracked open, watching the smoke curl between them like it was dancing. Keith's eyes were also opening, glazed and hooded. Silence seemed to engulf them, calm and expectant, like nothing existed except them. 

“ _ Fuck _ , Lance…” Keith's cracked voice was nearly a whisper. “Can- Can I…?”

He couldn't seem to finish but it didn't matter. Lance knew.

“Keith, please…”

And suddenly Keith's hands were curling into his shirt, tugging him forward until their lips slammed together. It was a needy and eager kiss that Lance returned in kind, using one arm to brace himself on the wall, the other tangled in Keith's hair. Keith’s hands, in turn, settled onto his hips, grip firm enough that he could feel the heat burn into his bare flesh. Lance groaned, deepening the kiss and pressing his body harder against Keith. Their cigarettes burnt out in the ground, forgotten in favour of other activities. Though, Lance wasn't entirely sure he could argue healthier with what it was doing to his sanity.

If Lance could have stopped time and continued like that forever, he just about may have actually done so. Well, maybe with a slight change in the amount of body contact involved. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that power and with a whine, he broke apart, resting his forehead on Keith’s shoulder instead.

“I have to go back to work, man.” He pulled back when he didn’t get a response and was surprised to find Keith looking oddly nervous. “Keith? Cutie? Hot stuff? Pumpkin?”

The use of pet names had the desired effect, pulling Keith from his own mind with a laugh.

“Fuckin’ weirdo.”

“That’s a terrible pet name. You need to practice your dirty talk.”

“Hey! You haven’t even heard my dirty talk!”

The thought of how much he wanted that to change flashed through Lance’s mind, but he ignored it, focusing on his original concern.

“Everything okay?”

“Ah… Yeah, I guess so. I just-” He seemed to be struggling to find the right words, so Lance chose to be patient for once. “I don’t want you to think I’m that lonely, creeper in the strip club, trying to get in the dancers’ pants… I’m making this weird, aren’t I?”

Lance couldn’t help but grin. Keith’s worry was entirely unfounded, but it was endearing nonetheless.

“Yeah, you really are.”

“I hate you.”

“Keith. You have literally not made a single move tonight that wasn’t encouraged by me. It’s been oddly fun having to do the chasing myself for once.”

He watched Keith’s mouth as it opened and then snapped shut again, eyebrows furrowing. He looked like he wanted to argue Lance’s point, but couldn’t quite pinpoint exactly what he was annoyed about. Eventually he just huffed.

“Yeah, fine. We’re cool then?”

“Hm. I dunno…  _ Are _ you trying to get in my pants?”

Lance immediately regretted his question. The smirk that slowly grew on Keith’s face was downright  _ wicked _ and made something in Lance curl.  _ Goddamn, how is he this fucking hot? _

“God, absolutely. Tonight, preferably.”

Lance had zero problems with this.

“Multiple times, I hope.”

“Whatever you ask for, shithead.”

“Loser.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on, get back to work.”

“Mm.” Lance dipped in to press his lips to to Keith’s jawline briefly before backing away. “You just want to watch me shake my arse.”

“Yes.”

The sound of Lance’s sudden laughter bounced off the brick and concrete around them. He was surprised once again but Keith’s bluntness. As they made their way inside once more that night, Lance decided that so far, it was his favourite trait. Though, the fact that he was so easy to bait was a close second.

Surely, this night could only get better.

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

Keith was happily lazing on a booth couch, listening to Hunk explain some of the cultural aspects of his impressive fire twirling when Lance finished his shift.

It was easy to know that Lance had finished his shift because suddenly appeared next to them with a yell of “Freedom!” before promptly flopping right into… 

Hunk’s lap. 

Keith tried not to pout. He'd already found out what close friends those two were and probably shouldn't be surprised. He definitely had no right to be jealous. But he'd just spent two hours watching Lance either dancing (on the floor and on stage again) or bartending and he had been really looking forward to being able to touch him again. And now here he was in galaxy print leggings and a pastel pink oversized jumper, looking cute as hell and within reach, but apparently having forgotten Keith's existence. 

It kind of hurt.

Or, it did, until Lance caught Keith's eye while Hunk was distracted with something else and flat out  _ smirked _ . That smug little shit; he was doing this on purpose. Really, now? Well, two could play at this game. 

“Hey, dude, where's my jacket?”

Lance looked away. 

“Don't know what you're talking about.”

“Seriously? Come on, I know you've hidden it somewhere. Give it back.”

“Nope. You  _ gave _ it to me.”

Hunk was glancing between the two, clearly confused at their apparent immediate arguing.

“I  _ lent _ it to you out of pure politeness, dick head. Because you're Shiro’s friend. And now I want it back.”

Lance looked positively offended at the suggestion that Keith didn't have ulterior motives for his actions.

“Yeah, well, it looks better on me anyway. So I'm keeping it.”

“Lance, don't. Return Keith’s jack-” Hunk tried to intervene but was cut off before he could really get started. 

“You have your own leather jacket if I recall. Wear that.”

“Excuse you! That is club property to begin with. Plus, despite what you may think, I don't just constantly walk around day to day putting myself on display.”

“Really? Could have fooled me. Clearly your ego is big enough to fill that gap left by your lack of dancing skill.”

It was probably a low blow, but Keith was impressed when Lance didn't even pause. 

“Are you insulting my  _ dancing _ ? How dare! You're never getting your jacket back now!”

He had slid of Hunk now and onto the couch, slowly crawling his way towards Keith as they bickered back and forth - Keith had to remind himself to keep breathing. Lance's dark blue eyes sparkled with enjoyment of their pointless game.

“I am insulting your dancing. Honestly, that earlier lap dance was subpar.”

“You weren't worth the effort of my best skills.”

Keith nearly guffawed.  _ Ouch _ , that was a good clap back. Instead he leaned back and raised an eyebrow.

“How about I offer a trade then? For my jacket. Which has sentimental value, by the way.”

“Keith, you don't need to trade for your own jacket. Lance-”

“Let them be, Hunk.”

Pidge had appeared behind the large man who was now looking frazzled. Keith sent her a wink, she grinned back. 

“They're literally just flirting.”

But Keith's had turned back to Lance, who was considering him carefully.

“What kind of trade?”

Keith beckoned him close so he could whisper without anyone else hearing. Easy enough with the music still blaring. His lips brushed Lance's ear as he purred his offer.

“My jacket, in exchange for the best blow job of your life.”

He was pleased with the small squeak that escaped the previously unflappable dancer. Lance put space between them in order to look him up and down. Keith tried not to react.

“You seem very sure of that claim.”

“I am.”

“Are you sure? Because I have some good friends who are-”

“Lance.” Keith levelled a flat stare at him. “How about you won't find out whether it's baseless or not if I don't get my jacket?”

He could physically see the moment Lance gave in. Keith had played to his curiosity, his competitive nature,  _ and _ his libido. It was basically foolproof.

“Fine. Pidge, can you do me a favour?”

Pidge was already whisking away with a roll of her eyes.

“I know where it is. You're not subtle.”

Keith watched her go, surprised to see that she was actually gliding over the floor in heelies. His attention was quickly drawn back to what was in front of him, however, as Lance finally climbed onto his lap, his knees settling on either side of Keith's hips.

“Now, what were you saying about my dancing?”

“You know what I said. Why? Care to try again? You're just bitter ‘cause you lost.”

“Say what?! I did not  _ lose _ you fuckin’ emo!”

“Uh huh. You did. But I'll be generous if you want another chance to prove yourself.”

Keith knew he could be easy to wind up, easy to bait into a challenge. But if he was competitive, Lance was even more so; he revelled in goading and being goaded in return. This was something Keith could understand and use to his advantage. Seated on his thighs, Lance squirmed in hesitation.

“Double or nothing?”

“We weren't betting anything in the first place!” Lance snapped back at him. 

“Were we not?”

“...Holy shit.”

Who was hooked this time? Keith was reasonably proud of his efforts this evening. Lance on the other hand, was looking like he was not used to being matched in his own game - and was loving it. 

“Fine, mullet. But I warn you; I'm not on the clock right now which means I don't have to hold back.”

“Also means neither do I.”

There faces were close now, having unconsciously leaned towards each other.

“Ew. Gross.”

And then they were unceremoniously interrupted by a jacket being thrown in Keith's face. He laughed. Lance pouted.

“Pidge! Rude!”

“Stop being gross then. All touchy feely and  _ cute _ . It's weird.”

“You regularly hang out in a strip club, Pidge! You don't even work here!”

The loss of heat as Lance stood up to chase Pidge around nearly drew a whine from Keith, but he smiled as he watched them interact. He was pretty sure everyone had adopted the sassy girl as their younger sister and treated her as such. Keith also got the feeling that this group counted each other as family. It was… nice. He really wanted to be a part of it. He'd have to remember to thank Shiro somehow.

A few minutes later, Lance returned to the couch, curling into Keith's side and kicking his long legs up onto the table, stealing Keith's drink, and returning his attention to Hunk.

Keith didn't complain. Tonight had been good, despite hiccups. He'd watched various impressive performances, made friends, met Lance and kissed him. He knew their friendship had barely begun, but he  _ liked _ Lance. They clicked. He had the vague thought that if they had met a few years ago, they would have hated each other. Fortunately, instead of dwelling on now impossible, and unlikeable, scenarios, he turned his thoughts on how he and Lance could sneak off to make out before closing time.

Yeah, Keith was thinking that his new life in this town was exactly what he needed. For the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the future.


End file.
